


bound to break

by gotatheory



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, OQ Movie Week, the greatest showman au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-24 10:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18163856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotatheory/pseuds/gotatheory
Summary: Robin Locksley is one part of a brother/sister trapeze act; Regina Mills is the wealthy patron of Mr. Gold's Circus.It's complicated.





	1. come alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soixantecroissants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soixantecroissants/gifts).



> a belated birthday present for my darling friend nina. i'm so lucky to make one whole person together with her. all my love!
> 
> also for tuesday of oq movie week.

The first time Robin sees her, she’s on the balcony with Mr. Gold, and he’s hanging from the catch bar during the show. Usually, he’s completely focused on what he’s doing, cannot risk even a second of not paying attention to their act or that could mean a missed cue and his sister falling to net below. Today, though, the curtains on the balcony rustle, and he just glances that way for a moment before he catches sight of the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Everything fades out, his entire world shrinking to encompass her as she surveys the circus from up high, peering down like a queen. She’s standing in a crowd of people and yet, Robin sees none of them, not even Mr. Gold next to her.

He knows he doesn’t stand a chance — her clothes are too nice, her poise and composure adding to her regality. She comes from money and he’s just a trapeze artist. But he can’t take his eyes off of her. Even from this distance, she’s stunning in every way imaginable, from her olive skin to her perfect profile as she turns her head and says something to Gold.

He doesn’t know her name yet, but he feels himself fall a little in love with her.

“Robin!”

Just in time for his sister to come flying — and then falling — through the air.

He manages to catch her, and thank God for it, because she’s liable to kill him just for nearly dropping her, much less _actually_ dropping her. Later, when they’re back on the ground and it’s after the show, he grimaces under the weight of her glare. “I’m sorry,” he says and lamely offers, “I got distracted.”

“You don’t say,” Mulan scowls, crossing her arms over her chest. “What was the matter with you up there? You looked completely spaced out.”

He might say more, try to apologize better, but then Mr. Gold walks up to them, and _she’s_ with him. Robin’s breath catches, his eyes locked onto her, his heart pounding in his ears. For a moment, it’s as if he’s up on the bars, swinging through the air, for all the adrenaline rushing his system.

She’s even more stunning up close, like this.

“Mulan, Robin, come here!” Gold orders — everything sounds like an order from him, even when he’s smiling. “Come meet our newest benefactor and my apprentice.”

She corrects him with a quirked eyebrow and a wry, “He means junior partner.” That’s all she says, only four words, and Robin knows he doesn’t want to hear another voice ever again.

The mysterious _her_ is Regina Mills, a name that sounds all too familiar, and he’s just connected the dots to _the_ Mills, an obscenely wealthy family who patronizes the fine arts. Apparently Miss Mills is following in her parents’ footsteps, but Robin can’t imagine they would ever approve of her donating their funds to the _circus_ of all things.

She extends her hand to every member of the troupe, doesn’t flinch at all as some of the more… exotic acts shake her hand and introduce themselves, something Robin admires. He never would have thought a lady like her would deign to touch them, much less listen as they give their names. Her brow furrows thoughtfully with each one, like she’s trying to commit the information to memory, and Robin is much too caught up in studying her to realize it’s his turn.

He’s a second late pressing his palm to hers, leaves her hanging in the air a moment too long (his timing is awful tonight all around, it seems), and he’s immediately ashamed of his touch. Her skin is velvet soft, a testament to her lifestyle, a startling contrast to his rough, calloused hand.

“Robin Locksley, at your service, milady,” he says, tripping over his own tongue. He hopes she doesn’t notice the redness creeping up his neck.

“The trapeze artist,” she murmurs, and he can’t help the way his eyes linger on her mouth. She has a pretty mouth, an interesting scar carving through her top lip, and he wonders what the story is behind it. The imperfection only makes her more alluring.

He tries to swallow, searching for some of his usual confidence, and manages a teasing, “So you’ve heard of me, Ms. Mills?”

“I prefer Regina,” she replies firmly, and he wonders about that rejection of her family name in conjunction with her partnership with Gold. Then her lips switch into something mischievous, curling into something like the smirk she used earlier to correct Gold, as she says, “And yes, I’ve… seen your work.”

She must have noticed his almost slip up in the air, how he fumbled Mulan, and he grimaces. He’s good at what he does, Mr. Gold wouldn’t have hired him and Mulan if they weren’t, and he hates that he’s made them look bad.

“Yeah, about that…” Before he can explain — not that there’s an explanation — Gold is reaching for her, dragging her off to meet the rest of the troupe, and he’s left staring in her wake.

Mulan turns to him, brow furrowed and mouth tipped down. “What the hell was that?”

“What was what?” he asks, turning his head down and walking away. He doesn’t know what he expects to happen — running from his sister has hardly ever been the right course of action.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Robin!” She jogs in front of him, extending her hand and pressing it to his chest. “I saw the way you were looking at her! You’ve never been so tongue-tied in your life.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, and when she tries to push, he shakes his head. “Mulan, please, don’t. I know I’m an idiot. I know I don’t stand a chance with her. It’s just… a phase. Something I’ll get over. Let it go.”

Because he’s going to, the moment he can stop thinking about her.


	2. the other side

He sees her again, of course. He sees her repeatedly, and not once does he get more eloquent around her. Mulan teases him — scolds him, really, because she knows how he’s making a right fool of himself and he’s only going to end up hurt. Regina Mills is so far out of his league; a fact he is keenly aware of and yet cannot seem to get into his thick skull (and his thicker heart).

But he watches her, and cannot resist approaching her even when he doesn’t know what to say. She’s not much of a conversationalist herself, he’s learned. She’s guarded, and though some of the other troupe members think she’s looking down on them because of her privileged upbringing, Robin’s not so sure it’s any sort of snobbery. 

She wouldn’t be here if she was a snob, he reasons. It’s that thought that gives him the courage to approach her, to always attempt to make conversation even when his own tongue trips him up.

Today, he sees her as she’s coming out of Mr. Gold’s office, a scowl set upon her pretty lips, and somehow, even with a pinched brow and a frown, she’s gorgeous. God, he’s really got to get a handle on himself.

“Hello, Ms. Mills,” he greets her, smiling, trying to summon every ounce of charm he possesses.

“Hello,” she returns absently, but he sees the moment she recognizes him. It’s a subtle shift, but the tightness of her face softens, just a bit, and she says, “Robin. How often must I tell you to call me Regina?”

“One more time, at least,” he teases, though he bows his head in contrition. “It’s difficult to remember, since Mr. Gold insists upon being called that. I’m not even sure the man has a first name.”

At the mention of the man whose office she’s just left, Regina sighs, one hand creeping up to brush back a stray curl that’s fallen in her face. “Yes, well, Mr. Gold likes his secrets,” she says cryptically, even going so far as to shoot a glare over her shoulder. But then she’s smiling slyly, leaning in a bit to whisper, “It’s Phineas.”

Robin is taken aback a moment, surprised, but then he’s chuckling. “Well, thank you for that bit of information,” he says, biting his lip for a moment. “Would you — I mean — that is, some of us were going out for a drink. Would you like to join us?”

Regina hesitates, lips parting but pausing before she speaks.

“My sister will be there, and Ruby and Ursula,” he says quickly, in case she feared that he was inviting her on some sort of guys’ outing. “You wouldn’t be singled out.”

After a moment longer, she finally says, “I really shouldn’t…” But then her dark eyes sparkle mischievously and she shrugs, “But why not?”

“Took you long enough, Robbie,” Mulan calls out to him when he comes striding into the bar, her teasing smile giving way to widened eyes as Regina follows him in. She raises her eyebrows at him, a sharp incline of her head toward Regina conveying what she can’t say.

Robin shrugs, even as he wraps his sister in a loose hug in greeting, mostly so he can whisper, “I ran into her as I was leaving. Thought why not invite her?”

“Because she probably doesn’t usually spend her time in dive bars?”

He chooses to ignore that remark, instead letting her go so that he can pull a chair out for Regina to sit. It’s a small group from the troupe: his sister, Ursula, Ruby, John and Will. They don’t go out often, but the bar is convenient to unwind after a long day at the circus. “What would you like to drink, miss — I mean, Regina,” he asks her, and she only offers up a shrug.

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” she says, with enough casual conviction that he might almost believe that was true. But she’s fidgeting, her hand lifting from her lap to that errant curl.

He thinks she’s uncomfortable, and of course she is. This little hole-in-the-wall is not a place for her, and he’s trying to think of how to give her an out, when Ursula interrupts his thoughts with, “Oh, honey, no, you don’t want what he drinks. You’ll have what I’m having.”

It starts a good-natured ribbing about how there’s nothing wrong with drinking what’s on tap, or cheapest, and Regina is mostly quiet through it all, taking it in. He watches her out of the corner of his eye, and she’s chuckling, and the moment she interjects with her own opinion, he smiles.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Several drinks in, and Robin thinks maybe this is the best idea he’s ever had. Ruby, Mulan, and Will are off playing darts, and Ursula and John have taken up at the tiny piano in the corner. It’s a bit out of tune as John plays it, but Ursula’s voice is so lovely it’s difficult to notice.

Not that Robin is noticing much of anything while Regina Mills is sitting next to him. She’s relaxed back into her chair now, her glass of whiskey in her hand, her eyes glassy but comprehending as he speaks. “Tell me where you’re from,” she had said, “how you ended up in this circus.”

“You wouldn’t be interested in all that,” he had said with a shake of his head. “It’s a long and sad story.” He had looked at his sister, at his friends he had made in the troupe. “Though right now it’s in a happy period.”

She had insisted, though, and so he told her everything. How his mother had passed away when he was too young to remember her, and his father was a tailor who died from consumption when he was barely twelve. He’d been on the streets then, had inherited none of his father’s skill to be a tailor and it left him destitute. He’s not proud of those years — he spent that time learning to be a thief — but, as he tells her, he never would have found his sister if not for those years stealing from people so he could survive.

“She was dressed up as a boy, believe it or not. Had a little pageboy cap and all of her hair tucked up under it and loose fitting clothes, because it was safer that way, she said,” he chuckles at the memory, at the way he had known her for a few weeks as Ping until he had caught her with her hair down and learned the truth. “We’ve been together ever since, looking out for each other.”

“That’s so sweet,” Regina says wistfully, a faraway look in her eyes.

“Do you have any siblings?” he asks, curious to know about her now.

She shifts in her seat, sitting upright, and Robin regrets asking now. He’s made her uncomfortable, and he very much wants her to go back to that relaxed, easy smile she had before. “I do,” she says, adding, “one. A sister. But we’ve never been close. Certainly not anything like you and Mulan.”

Her smile is more of a grimace, and he aches for her, for the loneliness he sees in her eyes. He remembers what it was like before he found his sister, when it was just him on his own, and he can’t imagine what it must be like to have a family and still feel like that. He sees it in Regina nonetheless, and he can’t resist reaching for her hand.

Regina startles at the touch, but doesn’t pull her hand away. Her lips part, her tongue just barely sneaking out to wet her bottom lip.

Robin is mesmerized by the action, cannot look away from her face, her entrancing eyes, her full mouth. He knows he shouldn’t stare, that she is leagues away from him, but he can’t help but wonder what it might be like to kiss her.

The moment is broken by Will stumbling into the table, laughing. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, depositing his empty beer bottle. “Don’t mind me, just going to get another round…”

Regina watches him leave, does not look back at Robin as she says, “I should be going. It’s getting late.”

_Don’t go_. He doesn’t voice the thought, instead nodding and rising, pulling her chair out for her to stand as well. “May I walk you to the—”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” she interrupts him, finally looking at him as she shoves at the stray curl once more. “Thank you for inviting me, Robin. It was… nice.”

Robin thinks now he should kiss her. Just once, even just on the cheek, something. But he holds his ground, and nods to her, murmuring, “It was very nice. Thank you for coming. We should do it again, sometime.”

Her smile is tight, regretful, and ow, that stings. He thought — well, it doesn’t matter. He walks her as far as the door, briefly rests a hand on her back and feels her warmth.

“Goodnight, Robin,” she whispers, so softly that he almost doesn’t hear it, and he leans in closer to her.

“Goodnight, Ms. Mills,” he says just as quietly, almost surprised when she hesitates.

She turns back to him, her smile not so tight as she corrects him: “Regina.”

He can’t stop his grin in response.


	3. tightrope

He calls her _Regina_ now, without needing to be reminded of it. 

It’s been months since Mr. Gold brought her on, months since she’s added her money to the funds, and now Mr. Gold’s Greatest Show is as close to respectable as it can get. So respectable that they even got to go across the sea and meet the Queen of England, an adventure Robin enjoyed and dreaded in equal amounts. He hadn’t been to his home country since his father died and he managed to steal away on a ship to America, and returning felt like going home and going somewhere unimaginably strange all at once. But Her Majesty had been fascinated, had marveled at the troupe and even inquired after him, with his fading accent that betrayed him as one of her subjects.

Will had become rather taken with the young queen, something that had amused Robin to no end, and had confounded his friend. “Look at her, Rob!” he had whispered, adding, “She’s most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen!”

Robin hadn’t been able to say he held the same sentiment, and so, he stayed silent. His eyes had strayed to Regina, the whole reason they were there actually, her high society connections somehow masterminding the whole thing. She had been in a conversation with Mr. Gold and another guest of the Queen’s, but she had met his gaze, a small, secret smile tipping the corners of her mouth up, and he had bit his lip and smiled back.

Ever since that first night he asked her to join them for drinks, it’s become a sort of ritual between them. She doesn’t always come, but she’s gone out with them with increasing frequency, to the point where it’s more often for her to be there than not, and Robin feels her absences keenly.

She likes to get away, he knows now, likes to have a reason to not return home.

“It’s very… stifling,” she had told him one evening when they had lingered at the bar after the rest of the gang had gone home. Talking to her comes easier now, when they’ve spent so much time together. “I think it felt like a home once, when I was a child, and Daddy was better at hiding my mother’s machinations from Zelena and me. But we grew up, or maybe he simply got tired of it all, maybe it became too hard to keep her from us, and now… I feel like I’m being suffocated, sometimes.”

Robin couldn’t really say he understood the feeling. When his father was alive, he had been happy, despite their lack of wealth. He worked hard, and always tried to do his best by Robin, and losing him had been unspeakably painful. Even when he was alone and on the streets, he never felt smothered.

“You’ve got us now,” he had said, meaning the circus, the troupe who had embraced her into the fold.

Regina had smiled, soft and pinched, and nodded. “Yes, for now,” she had murmured, tearing her gaze from him and staring off. “At least until Mother realizes I’m still serious about the whole endeavor.”

Robin had blinked at that, confused.

“She still thinks I’m going to ‘come to my senses’ and start supporting more, ah, _conventional_ arts,” she had explained, and it was Robin’s turn for his face to become pinched.

“Has she ever come to a show?”

“Oh, heavens no,” Regina had laughed rather heartily at that. “Cora Mills would never be caught dead at the circus.”

“How can she judge you for something she’s never seen? How does she know we’re not worth supporting, just because we’re unconventional?” he had argued, and Regina’s smile this time was patient, tender almost.

“I don’t disagree,” she had murmured, reaching for his hand and squeezing. Then, “Have you ever been to the theater?”

Robin had winced a bit, knowing she must have gone all the time. Of course she did, her family bloody supports the theater for a living, funds the whole damn thing. He had felt embarrassed to admit he had never seen a single play, even though he didn’t admit that he had always been too poor to go.

He hadn’t realized it at the time, but looking back, he knows she was simply trying to change the subject to something a bit happier than her family. She had regaled him about tales of plays she had seen, had patronized with her money, and concerts too. The way she talked about it, the spark in her eyes as she recounted show after show, had been mesmerizing.

“I should like to go one day,” he had said softly, though he had honestly never thought about it until that very moment.

Despite that conversation, the tickets are still a surprise.

Robin hardly knows what’s happening; the show has just finished, the troupe taking their final bows to the audience, and then Regina grabs him as he heads backstage.

“For you,” she says, pressing an envelope into his hand. “Since you’ve never been.” And then she’s gone, disappearing as suddenly as she appeared.

Utterly confused, he opens it, discovering two tickets for a play on his night off and a to-the-point note: _For you and whomever you’d like to go with you. -R_

As if he would have chosen anyone else (he does spare a thought for his sister, but he thinks she wouldn’t begrudge him this).

He doesn’t actually expect her to say yes, when he asks, but she smiles at him, coy and secretive, and accepts his invitation. And even up until this very point, where he is walking into the theater, he waits to wake up from the dream he must be in.

Regina is standing there at the box office, all dolled up, her dark hair braided and pulled up off her neck into a complicated hairdo, her lips a dangerous red, her dress clinging to her and yet so modest at the same time, only a hint of her cleavage visible. Her stole is fur, draped over her shoulders, and she smiles at him when she sees him.

He feels shabby next to her, though he’s dressed in his best suit. He knows it pales to her extravagance, but she takes his arm anyway. He still can’t believe it, subtly pinches his own thigh as he sits beside her and watches actors move about the stage. It’s dark in the theater, and he can barely make out her profile, but he studies her nonetheless. She always steals his attention, especially now as she takes in the play with rapt eyes, so singular in her focus, so beautiful.

Robin decides then and there that he is going to kiss her tonight. That it will be a poor thank you for her gift, but he simply cannot go another minute of his life without pressing his lips to hers.

He’s escorting her out of the theater, to the stairs, listening as she excitedly talks about the play’s plot and meaning and talented actors, and he agrees, it was a very good play (despite his inexperience with such things and his distraction, he really did enjoy himself). But he’s still thinking about her lips, how desperately he wants to kiss her, and for that, he must get her out of the crowded lobby of the box office.

“Regina?” he hears a woman’s voice, sharp and prim, and instinctively, he turns. She’s an older woman, dark hair that is nonetheless lighter than Regina’s, with a fair bit more red in it, and dark eyes that match Regina’s completely. Except they possess a coldness that Regina’s eyes do not, even at her most closed-off. “You didn’t tell us you were coming to the play.”

There is a gentleman at her side, now, salt and pepper hair and an olive complexion, and when he says, “Cora,” Robin realizes he is now face to face with Regina’s parents.

Regina’s arm slips free of his own, shifting to stand further away from him, to separate as much as she can. “Mother, Father, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” she says neutrally, all her warmth dying out as she speaks to her parents.

“I should think not,” Cora Mills sniffs, harsh eyes boring into him. “And who is your companion, darling? You haven’t mentioned that you were seeing anyone.”

“I’m not,” Regina is quick to say, and Robin hopes his small flinch goes unnoticed. (He doesn’t think much goes unnoticed, from the way Mrs. Mills is observing him, gaze raking over him in a way that makes him shift his weight from foot to foot, nervous as she inspects every inch of him.) “This is Robin. Robin Locksley. He’s a performer at the circus.”

Impossibly, Cora’s expression grows colder, and Robin shivers.

“I wish you had listened to me, dear, when I told you to stay away from Phineas Gold. Nothing good comes from associating with that man, and now look at you. Getting acquainted with the riffraff.”

He doesn’t know what he expects Regina to do in this moment, but he is shocked by her silent acceptance of her mother’s declaration. She bows her head, her mouth pressed into a thin line and her hands clenched at her sides, but she says nothing. It goes against everything he’s ever seen of her; she always makes her opinion heard, even when it leads to shouting matches with Mr. Gold.

Robin doesn’t kiss her, that night. He doesn’t even leave with her. He bids her goodbye in as unfamiliar a manner as possible, trying to downplay their friendship in front of her parents. 

In the following days, it’s not so much that he avoids her or that he hides from her… It’s more that he just happens to not see her, somehow they’re just never in the same place at the same time.

At least until she finds him — and there is no doubt that she seeks him out, finds him alone and rehearsing with the aerial silks. Of course she would find him here, while he’s dangling from the rafters and unable to sneak away.

“Robin,” Regina calls out to him.

He hates the part of him that still loves the sound of her voice, the part that wants him to turn and look at her even as he steadfastly ignores her.

“Could you come down here, please?”

Robin grits his teeth, slides his way down the silk, but he doesn’t look at her. It’s one of the few times that he’s been able to keep his gaze off of her. “I’m trying to rehearse this new act,” he says stiffly, hoping she’d leave with how short he’s being.

She’s quiet for a moment, long enough that he thinks maybe she’ll walk away. He hears her sigh, though, and then she’s saying, “I wanted to apologize.”

So now she’s found her voice.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he replies, finding a spot on the floor that is simply fascinating. “It was my fault for getting the wrong idea.”

“Robin, no, that’s not—”

“It’s fine. You don’t owe me anything,” he says. That should be all he says, he should walk away, get back to the silk and rehearse. But he can’t resist adding, “After all, I’m just a circus performer.”

He’s not looking at her, so he has no idea how she took his barb until she speaks again, “That was uncalled for. I’m trying to explain myself—”

“I’m so happy you’ve finally found your voice after it went missing the other night.”

“You don’t understand! My mother would destroy you, Robin,” she says, reaching out and grasping his arm, and finally he looks at her. Her expression is unlike one he’s ever seen her wear; he doesn’t know how to read it, to read her in the moment. “She’d destroy all of this and she wouldn’t care who she hurt, so long as I’m back under her thumb.”

“You’re right. I don’t understand,” he murmurs as he shrugs off her hand. “You’re a woman grown, Regina. All that should matter is if we want to be together. Not what your mother thinks, or anyone else.”

Regina protests, “It’s not that simple,” but Robin only shakes his head.

“It should be,” is all he says, a final declaration, and then he’s walking away from her.

She’s surprisingly quick, and strong, he discovers, as she grabs at him, spinning him to face her once more. He always thought _he’d_ be the one to initiate their first kiss. To be sure, he had thought long and often about this moment, that first touch of his lips to hers, and he never once imagined it’d be anything like this.

Robin is almost too stunned to react, completely thrown by having her in his arms, her body pressed to his like this, before he comes to his senses and kisses her back. His arms slide around her waist, one hand instinctively cupping the back of her head.

It’s over as suddenly as it started.

“I _do_ want to be with you,” she murmurs, pressing her forehead to his, her brow furrowed and eyes closed. “But I know she will stop at nothing to make me the dutiful daughter she wants me to be. I can’t bear to be the cause of your destruction, Robin. It’s already so dangerous for me to be a part of this show, but if we were together… Mother wouldn’t stand for it. She’d raze the entire circus to the ground, innocents and all.”

When this conversation started, Robin couldn’t bear to look at her. Now, he can’t continue talking without being able to see her. He eases her back, just enough that he can cup her cheek in his hand, can gaze into her dark, troubled eyes.

“She’s your mother,” he whispers hoarsely. “Surely she must want you to be happy?”

“She does,” Regina agrees, reaching up and kissing him once more. A gentle peck, unhurried, tender, nothing at all like the kiss before, when it was all passion and desperation. “But she wants _her_ happiness to be _mine_. She doesn’t understand that I would want different things…”

He hesitates, unsure of what to say. And then: “Regina, I…”

She leans in, brow to brow again, and he can just barely make out the pained grimace twisting her features before she gets blurry, too close to see her properly. “I know.”


	4. never enough

He can’t stop kissing her.

It would be a lie to say that he thought that maybe, if he kissed her once, it would be out of his system and he could move on. Robin knows all too well how consuming his thoughts of Regina are, how moving on seemed an impossible task even before he had spent so much time in her company. So no, he never thought one kiss would be enough, but he certainly didn’t expect that he’d barely be able to keep his lips from hers after one kiss.

Robin finds it a relief that Regina seems to feel similar. For all that he’s seeking her out, pulling her into darkened corners or empty hallways, she’ll kiss him back just as fiercely, clinging to him like she never wants to let him go.

“We shouldn’t do this,” she always says once they’ve paused their affections, her forehead pressed to his, their breaths mingling.

He pulls back from her just enough to see her face clearly, his hand cupping her jaw and tilting it up so that he can look into her eyes. “This stops whenever you want, Regina,” he murmurs, thumb stroking her cheek, as he always tells her. “Just tell me to go, to leave you alone.”

Regina bites her lip, something he’d really much rather be doing for her, and then she’s gripping his hair tightly in her fist, tugging him to her with as much ferocity as their first kiss. She whispers into his mouth, “Never.”

They’re safe, so long as they stay within the walls of the circus. Their own little sanctuary, though Robin supposes it’s become that for all of Mr. Gold’s troupe. A place to be themselves without judgment from the outside world. The downside to that, of course, is that they never leave. At least, they don’t go anywhere together; Regina has even stopped accompanying him to the bar with the rest of the troupe. She doesn’t want to risk her mother (or anyone her mother might employ to follow her) seeing them in public.

Robin tries to consider it a small price to pay for getting to hold her in stolen moments in a hallway.

This time, it’s Regina drawing back from the kiss. She reaches up, rubbing her thumb over his mouth to remove the smear of her lipstick. “I should be going,” she murmurs, a tiny smile catching her lips when he presses a kiss to the pad of her thumb. “I have to meet with Gold.”

“You’ve been having a lot of meetings with him lately,” he remarks mildly, though not because of any sense of jealousy. He has no doubt that her meetings with Mr. Gold are about business, and the source of his statement is curiosity over what the ringmaster and his junior partner might be planning for the circus. 

She sighs with a fair bit of frustration. “He’s gotten this damned idea for a new… endeavor. I think it’s not the best course of action, but he won’t be swayed.”

Robin furrows his brow, wondering if he should be worried about what Mr. Gold might be getting up to. “What kind of new endeavor?”

“When we were meeting the Queen, he met another guest of Her Majesty’s, Belle François. She’s a singer, quite popular in Europe, and he wants to bring her here.” She rolls her eyes. “He’s quite enamored with her.”

“That doesn’t sound so terrible. Maybe she could lighten him up a bit,” Robin says, but Regina shakes her head.

“No, Phineas Gold is too much of an impulsive risk taker. It worked well with the circus, but he’s not going to be able to talk himself out of this one if it goes poorly. The amount of money it will take to fund a tour like he wants… Not even I can provide him that kind of money.”

He reaches up, brushing a lock of hair back from her face, smiling at her. “You’ll make him see sense, Regina,” he says, unable to resist kissing her a final time. “That’s why he has you, to stop him from doing anything too risky.”

Her face scrunches with uncertainty, murmuring, “I hope so,” before she steps out of his embrace. “I have to go.”

Robin lets her leave, sure of her ability to stop Mr. Gold from doing anything that might bring ruin the circus. Too many people depend on it, and he is under no illusions about what would happen to his relationship with Regina if the circus was gone.

For once, he overestimates Regina, or perhaps he merely underestimates Mr. Gold’s fascination with the French singer. He knows Regina must have argued fiercely — and she has continued to argue, to explain, to beg even — all the reasons why this was a terrible idea, and indeed, the relationship between Mr. Gold and Regina suffers for it. They become snappy and short with each other, though the ringmaster keeps his impossible, infuriating smile firmly in place, weathering every snide remark (and worse) from Regina with remarkable calmness.

“It’s decided, Regina,” he would say with a shrug, “and so there’s no point in being angry about it anymore. It’s done.”

That doesn’t mollify Regina one bit, but Robin doubts that he was really trying to, anyway. He thinks instead Mr. Gold was trying to get her to shut up about it, whether she wanted to continue to be angry or not. It does have that effect, at least, though Regina glowers at the man and is altogether more prickly than usual in the weeks leading up to Belle François’s arrival and eventual tour.

Mr. Gold leaves Regina behind to lead things, of course, singing her praises of what a magnificent job she’ll do. That also does nothing to improve her mood, and even Robin can’t get her to stop being tense.

“Is it really so bad, running the show?” he asks one day, sitting in her (Mr. Gold’s) office.

She looks up at him from behind the desk, a sharpness to her features not entirely directed at him. “I won’t be running it for long if Phineas bankrupts us,” she bites out, before she’s dropping her pen to the desktop and bringing her hands to her face. “I’m sorry, Robin. I just feel like everything is going terribly wrong.”

“Nothing is going wrong,” he assures her, coming around to stand behind her. He reaches out, massaging her shoulders, and smiling down at her as she relaxes, as miniscule as it is, at his touch. “You’re doing a great job, and you said Mr. Gold was having a bit more success with Mademoiselle François than anticipated.”

Regina bites her lip, and he can’t stand to see her preoccupied like this, so he bends down and captures that lip for himself.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs to her, and thinks about all the things he wants to say to her, but can’t. She still won’t go anywhere with him in public, still insists it’s for his own protection, and what he wants to say would only make her feel guilty and add to her burden. He kisses her again, and savors that she lets him do it so freely as long as they’re here.

They break apart at the sound of commotion outside in the hallway, and Robin’s just had enough time to get around the desk before the door is slamming open, revealing Regina’s mother and Will right behind her.

“I’m sorry, Regina, she was very insistent she come see you!” Will explains, as Cora Mills takes in her daughter behind the desk and then shifts her gaze over to Robin.

She recognizes him, of that he has no doubt from the way her eyes narrow almost into slits, her expression unchanging as she looks back at Regina. “I’d like to speak to my daughter. Alone.”

Will immediately starts backing out, but Robin turns to Regina, waiting for her to give him a sign of what _she_ wants. She nods at him to leave, one single tilt of her head toward the door. He doesn’t want to leave, because he has a pretty good idea of what her mother is going to say, the thoughts she’s going to try to plant in Regina’s head, and he wants to be there to rip them up. But he swallows down that impulse and follows Will out.

“This is going to be bad, isn’t it?” Will grimaces.

Robin thinks that’s an understatement, to say the least.

She comes for him later, seeks him out after her mother has left, and he can tell she’s been crying. Her eyes are red-rimmed and the vein in her forehead pulses prominently, and he takes her in his arms, holding her close as she buries her face in the crook of his neck. “She came to collect me,” she mumbles, voice hoarse. “To tell me how it’s time for this game of mine to end, that I have to come back home and behave myself like a lady should.”

He wonders how much yelling she’s done, how long she’s been in tears. Her presence here in his arms is enough of an answer on how Regina responded to _that_. “And when you didn’t leave?” he asks softly.

“She said she’d leave me to ruin, then,” Regina whispers, and he thinks she might tremble in his arms. “I… I should have left with her. I’ve put everyone in danger, now.”

“Regina, please,” he says, drawing back to look her in the eye, “she’s your mother. Surely she won’t do anything to physically hurt you or anyone else.”

“Even if all she does is besmirch the name and reputation of the circus, isn’t that enough?” Regina counters, and Robin doesn’t mean to upset her or downplay her fears, but he means to comfort her.

He draws her back in, kissing the crown of her head. “We’ve weathered poor reviews before,” he tells her, “and we’ll do it again.”

In the following weeks, Robin looks back at this moment and thinks perhaps he should have taken Regina’s concerns a bit more seriously. Poor reviews do come, to be sure, courtesy of Sidney Glass, a reporter for _The Mirror_ that has always despised the circus for its “crude entertainment value” and the “disgrace it brings to true art forms such as the theater,” but the hit jobs come harsher and crueler now, and on more fronts. Glass’s are the worst, but it quickly spirals into more than that. The man hangs around the circus constantly, apparently paid a good penny to do his best to antagonize the troupe by whatever means necessary (whether those means are deemed by Cora Mills or the man himself, Robin does not know). It becomes more personal, and he stirs others to join him, men with small minds and too much drink in their system all too willing to harass the troupe.

Mr. Gold is still touring with Belle François, and Regina tries to keep things under control as best she can, breaking up fights and trying to keep the protesters out. No matter how she tries to get rid of Sidney Glass, he’s always there, always provoking trouble, and her control on the situation is tenuous at best.

Until it snaps.

The show has just ended, the crowds departing, and Regina has taken well to the ringmaster role. She’s seeing them out, talking up the show, telling them to come back for the new acts every night, to tell all their friends and everyone they know about what fun they had. Robin always hangs back and watches her, smiling at how effortless it is for her to play host. It suits her well.

Ostensibly, he’s supposed to be cleaning up, so he busies himself with that and takes his eyes off of her. He looks back up when he hears her voice, a good deal colder than it was with the leaving crowd, say, “I’m going to have to ask you gentlemen to leave.”

“Oh, really now, lady?” a voice he does not recognize responds, and Robin drops the trash he was picking up and strides to her side as quickly as he can.

“Something the matter here?” he asks, taking in the group of men that are posturing there, lingering in the circus. His eyes land on Sidney Glass, and he scowls deeply.

“I’d say there is a lot matter here,” Glass sneers at him. “Like how closely you’re standing to Ms. Mills here, as if someone like you has any right to be so close.”

Behind him, Robin can hear some of the troupe filtering back in, and he sees the way Glass and his group straighten up, trying to make themselves look more threatening. He’s got to defuse this, somehow.

But he really, really does not like the way Glass looks at Regina, now or ever, but especially at this moment as he leers at her.

What Robin says is, “I believe Ms. Mills asked you all to leave.”

“We think _you_ should leave. You and your freaks,” Glass spits, stepping closer to Robin, lowering his voice. “And your unnatural sister and her dog.”

It’s the mention of Mulan and Ruby that does it, a rage building in him that Robin has never felt before. He always thought that one’s vision couldn’t actually go red, but he swears in that moment it does, but perhaps it’s merely the blood spilled when his fist connects solidly with Glass’s nose.

All hell breaks loose then, Glass’s men stepping in to defend him as the troupe rushes in, an all-out brawl exploding right there and spilling over onto the stage. Robin loses sight of Regina in the madness, tries to keep an eye on her but there’s too many men, too many fists for him to dodge and faces to throw his own at.

He’s not sure how the fire starts, but suddenly the circus fills with smoke, and the fight dissolves into panic. He grabs for whoever he can find, pulling and tugging and dragging them out into the open air as the building goes up in flames. He settles someone — John, he realizes, it’s Little John — onto the ground, unable to hold the big man up any longer.

“Mulan!” he shouts, searching the faces around him, trying to find her—

“Robin!” He feels her before he sees her, her small frame colliding with him and nearly knocking him over. She’s crying, holding him close to her, and he hugs her back.

He lets her go only so that he can make sure she’s not injured — her lip is split, and he knows she was in that fight just as much as he was, but aside from that and her smoke-covered face, she seems unhurt. Behind her, he sees Ruby, and so he steps back so she can embrace his sister.

Turning to the troupe, he takes a headcount, and then takes it again. “Where’s Regina?” he says, trying not to panic, but when no one has seen her and she hasn’t spoken up, he looks back to the burning building.

Mulan grabs his arm tightly. “Robin, no, you can’t go back in there,” she says, pleading with him, really.

“She’s still in there, Mulan!” he shouts, pulling out of her grip. To stop her protests, he says, “You’d do it for Ruby.”

“Please,” she tries again, but he hugs her once more, and murmurs into her hair _I love you, sis_ before he’s running back into the fire.

He doesn’t come back out.


	5. from now on

He hasn’t woken up yet. 

Nearly two days since the fire and he hasn’t moved since they brought him to this hospital bed. The doctors all said he should wake up, that it will take some time for his body to heal, but Regina watches him, does not leave his bedside unless forced. His sister sits on one side, holding his hand, while Regina sits on the other in the same position.

They’ve been here with him since that night, almost an entire forty-eight hours. Regina can still taste the smoke in her mouth, her fingers still trembling from the adrenaline, the fear.

She had run away when the fight broke out — nothing she would say could stop it, and she was useless otherwise. She knew Robin would be watching out for her, that she would only distract him, so she had escaped back to her office.

Then she had smelled smoke and when she stepped out, she had been assailed by heat and thick clouds of it. Immediately, she covered her mouth and nose as best she could, and her first instinct had been to get everyone out. She didn’t know who might still be in the back of the building unaware of the situation, and she couldn’t in good conscience leave them. After that, she had ran to the animals, letting them free because she couldn’t leave them to burn, either.

She had come around from the back of the circus building to the front to find the troupe huddled on the street, watching their home burn to the ground. Mulan was clinging to Ruby, tears rolling down her smoke-stained face and leaving tracks in the soot, and Regina’s blood had run cold in her veins despite the suffocating heat of the fire around them.

“Mulan!” she had cried out, reaching for her desperately. And though she had asked, “Where’s Robin?”, she knew the answer. Because he would be right here with his sister if he had gotten out, he wouldn’t have left her.

His sister couldn’t even speak, her mouth opening but no sound coming out. It had been Ruby who told her, “He went back in for you.” She said it without judgment, but the words went through Regina like a knife.

“No, oh God, no,” she had sobbed, hand pressed to her mouth. It was all her fault. If she hadn’t stayed with the circus, if she had just left when her mother came for her, or if she had turned down Phineas Gold the moment he had made his offer… Robin wouldn’t have been in a burning building.

Her mother had done exactly what Regina had said she would. She’d razed the circus to the ground.

It had been Will who ran back inside upon realizing Regina was right there. She had screamed for him not to go, that she couldn’t be responsible for more loss, but he hadn’t listened — and thank God for that. He’d been half-carrying, half-dragging Robin when he emerged, but the sight of both of them had brought more tears to Regina’s eyes even as she and Mulan ran to meet them.

Robin had been unconscious then, just as he is still unconscious now.

Phineas is on his way back, despite the tour. Regina hasn’t left Robin’s side, but she did remember to tell someone to send a telegraph to him. Even if he had abandoned the circus for his little French singer, he deserved to know what happened. (That is a cruel thought, even for her, but she is tired and hurt and angry at her mother, at him, at Robin, at herself, at everything.)

“He’s going to wake up,” Mulan says, her voice so soft that Regina almost doesn’t hear her. “He’s going to.”

Regina isn’t sure if she speaks with conviction or if she’s trying to convince herself. Either way, she holds her tongue, squeezes Robin’s hand, and waits.

The morning of the third day, Regina opens her eyes at the sound of her mother’s voice. “I want to see my daughter!” Cora Mills is shouting in a hospital ward, causing too much commotion considering the place, and Regina’s skin heats with embarrassment.

It’s not like Mother to make a scene, which has her suspicious, but she doesn’t want to leave Robin’s side. So she waits, and sure enough, Mother makes her way over to Robin’s bed. When Regina looks up at her, Cora is schooling her features from barely concealed disgust to concern.

“Regina! My daughter!” she cries out, suddenly throwing her arms around her and trying to tug her out of the chair.

Regina could count on two hands and still have fingers left over on the second for the number of times Cora Mills has ever hugged her, especially once she grew out of adolescence.

“I was so worried about you after I heard about that terrible, terrible fire, Regina!” Cora exclaims, pulling back and grasping Regina’s face, as if she’s trying to make sure she’s okay.

“The fire was three days ago, Mother,” Regina points out neutrally. Aside from blaming Cora for this mess, she hasn’t spared a thought to how her mother hadn’t even checked on her after her lackeys could have killed her.

Cora scowls at the censure, but plasters that false concern right over it. “Oh, my darling child, I’m so glad you’re alright,” she says, reaching for Regina’s hands now. One is still holding tight to Robin’s, and Regina refuses to let her mother’s fingers worm between them. “I told you that staying at that place was a bad idea, and look what happened! You could have died!”

Anger flares bright, and Regina can feel the blaze of the inferno engulfing the circus all over again as her own fire ignites in her. Because of you, she wants to say, but instead she hisses, “I don’t want you here. I don’t ever want to see you again,” she tells her, ripping her hand free.

“Regina!”

“No!” Regina hisses, trying to keep her voice down, more than aware of Mulan’s eyes on her and her mother. “I can’t believe what you did, what you were willing to do just to have me under your control.”

Cora’s mask of concern drops away, replaced by the cold, steely look Regina remembers all too well from childhood. “I was only trying to do what was best for my daughter. As much as you want to throw your life away with the _circus_ of all things—”

“It’s my life to do what I want with it,” Regina interrupts her, and then her head snaps to the side, her cheek stinging from the impact of Cora’s palm. She should have expected the slap, but it’s been so long since Cora expressed her displeasure in such a physical manner that she was unprepared.

Distantly, Regina is aware that Mulan has risen to her feet, but she doesn’t look at the other woman. Her eyes are locked on her mother’s, staring her down, and everything is almost eerily silent.

Cora breathes deep, then says in a quiet, seething voice, “I have tried so hard to give you the life you deserve, Regina. And you have always been so ungrateful for all my efforts. I am going to give you one last chance to walk away from this, to come back home.”

She stands firm, ignoring the way her cheek still burns from her mother’s slap, and says nothing.

“Fine,” Cora sighs, deflating a bit. She’s still angry to be sure, but mostly now she just looks disappointed as she regards her daughter. “I always had such high hopes for you, Regina. But there’s only so many times I can try to make you see sense, and if you want to throw everything away to be some acrobat’s whore, then so be it. But you will not get one more cent out of me, and if you think your father will save you, I will make sure he doesn’t.”

Pronouncement made, Cora Mills turns on her heel and walks away from her daughter. Perhaps other mothers might have looked over their shoulder, tried to make amends one final time, or given their daughters one more chance. But Cora did not look back, she did not hesitate. She gave Regina her final chance before, and she would not falter before her daughter like that.

Regina does not go after her, doesn’t even have the slightest desire to. Her heart aches a bit at what she’s done, the way she has now cut off her mother, and potentially her father (she spares no thought to Zelena, who would surely celebrate being the only accepted Mills daughter). But as she touches her fingertips to the tender skin of her cheek, she finds herself thinking that this was the best course to take.

“Regina!” Mulan says suddenly, surprising her. She almost forgot where she was. “He’s waking up!”

Regina is back at Robin’s side in a flash, taking his hand between her two as she and Mulan lean forward over him.

He’s stirring, twitching a bit in the bed until finally his eyes flutter over, groggily looking from his sister to her.

“Robin,” she breathes out, almost unable to believe she’s looking in his gorgeous blue eyes again. She can’t resist brushing a lock of his hair back off his forehead just to give her fingers an excuse to linger on his face, tracing his features.

“You’re alive,” he whispers, “I thought…”

“Shh, everyone’s fine,” Regina assures, and suddenly she is aware how long it’s been since she last kissed him. She leans in to tenderly press her lips to his, and then rests her forehead against his for a moment.

Between the two of them, they catch Robin up on what he missed while he was comatose, including how the circus wasn’t salvageable and that Gold is on his way back from the tour. It’s on that note that Regina takes her leave to see if Phineas has sent her a message, just to give brother and sister some time to themselves. She comes back some ten or fifteen minutes later, smiling at the sight of Robin propped up and conversing with his sister and Ruby.

Mulan spots her and then she’s the one standing, leaning over to kiss Robin on the cheek. “Ruby and I are going to go get something to eat, alright? But I’ll be back,” she says loudly enough for Regina to hear.

“You don’t have to play nursemaid, Mulan,” Robin retorts with a roll of his eyes, but there’s absolutely no heat to any of it. “I’m the older sibling, remember?”

“Barely!” she laughs, clasping hands with Ruby and walking by Regina. She squeezes Regina’s hand as she passes, something that warms Regina’s heart.

Regina settles back in the chair beside Robin’s bed, the chair that has practically become her home in the seventy-two hours since the circus went up in flames. “Sorry,” she says, automatically taking Robin’s hand. “I think she wanted to give us a moment, but that wasn’t necessary, I wouldn’t want to shoo her away from you.”

“Mulan wouldn’t have let you shoo her,” Robin replies easily, with quite a bit of assurance. “No offense, but she would have punched you out before she let herself be pulled from here, if she didn’t want to leave.”

That makes her chuckle, but it also makes her remember the fight, how all of this started. “You shouldn’t have gone back in for me,” she whispers to him, looking down at his hand as she rubs his still-bruised knuckles with her thumb. “I wasn’t there, for one. I went out the back to release the animals.”

He shrugs one shoulder, wincing a bit at some aggravated injury. “I didn’t know that, and I couldn’t stand outside in safety when you might have been in there,” he says, his conviction bringing tears to her eyes.

“You could have died, Robin—”

“I didn’t care, if it meant saving you.”

“That’s exactly what I was so afraid of!” Her voice rises more than she means, and she’s already made a spectacle once, so she takes a deep breath. The next time she speaks, her tone is more level. “I told you I was so afraid of my mother destroying everything because of me, and you rushed right in and nearly got yourself killed for my sake.”

He brings their joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of it. Into her skin, he murmurs, “I’m sorry. But I would do it again.”

She can’t look at him like this, with so much sincerity and emotion in his eyes, not when tears are about to spill over from her own. She looks up at the ceiling and tries to breathe.

“Hey, come here,” he bids her, urging her to sit on the bed beside him. He reaches up grasps her chin, until she’s looking at him. “I would do it for Mulan. And Ruby, and Little John, and Will. I’d do it for any of them, Regina. They’re my friends and my family. I love them… I love you.”

It doesn’t surprise her. They haven’t said it before, but not because they haven’t felt it. She’s known she was falling in love with him since that night at the bar, when he sat and shared drinks with her. It felt slow but inexorable, something she couldn’t escape the pull of and did not want to, not even when she tried to tell him they couldn’t be together.

“I love you too,” she says clearly, and then she can’t resist kissing him anymore. She says it again, into his mouth, and again, because she almost let him die without ever telling him. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” she peppers between kisses, dropping the words like punctuation points for every touch of their lips.

His hand tangles in her hair, pulling her more fully against him, deepening the kiss and not letting her pull away for another _I love you_. Instead, he cradles her against him, and she knows she should stop, they’re going to draw attention to themselves, but she doesn’t find the strength to care.

A throat clears. “Sorry to interrupt,” a voice, wry and accented, says, and Regina pulls apart from Robin to look up at Phineas Gold. “I wanted to see how he’s doing.” A pause. “Better than he was, obviously.”

Regina wills herself not to blush as she moves off the bed and back into the propriety of the chair. She still holds Robin’s hand tightly, not that he was letting hers go anytime soon from his grip.

“Yes, sir, I woke up earlier today,” he says in response. “How’s the circus?”

Gold sighs heavily, taking the seat that Mulan had been sitting in. “It’s not good, son,” he says, suddenly looking old and worn. “Even with the profits from the tour, I’m not going to be able to rebuild it.” To his credit, he holds Robin’s gaze the entire time, even as he apologizes.

For all of Gold’s faults — of which there are several, including his ability to lie and con his way into anything — he is being entirely upfront with Robin now, Regina knows. He truly is sorry, too. The circus was a wild hair for him, a business endeavor that could have ruined him, but he persevered. But he knows how it became a home for his troupe, a merry band of misfits that didn’t have a place in the world.

Now they’re without one again, all because of her and her mother.

Regina chews her lip, but doesn’t second guess herself before saying, “What if we used my profits to fund the rebuild?”

Gold shifts his gaze to her, eyes probing and curious. “Won’t your mother have something to say about that, Ms. Mills?” he asks.

“Not anymore,” she replies immediately. “She’s disowned me. It’s my money, besides, to use as I wish.” She turns to Robin then, squeezing his hand in hers. “And what I wish, is to rebuild our home.” She whips back around to look at Gold, adding, “As a _full_ partner, this time.”

He laughs. “Aye,” he says, extending his hand to her. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Much later, and Regina stands behind the curtain, peeking out at the circus before her. The lights are bright, and the red and white tented sides gleam, not that she can really see them for all the people seated, eagerly waiting for the show to start.

Robin stands beside her, drawing her attention to him when he grasps her hand. “Ready, my love?” he asks with a grin, and she beams back at him.

She reaches up to kiss him, barely able to maintain it from the way they’re both smiling. “Ready,” she says, just as she hears Gold announce:

“Welcome! To Gold and Mills’ Greatest Show on Earth!”


End file.
